


A lord and his prince

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Probably as non-angsty as things ever get for Fingon and Maedhros, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lord of Himring pays a visit to the court of the high king at Barad Eithel, and is particularly pleased to see the crown prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A lord and his prince

“Ah, Nelyo,” said Fingolfin warmly, gesturing for Maedhros to rise to his feet after the proper formal greeting had been made. He had allowed himself to switch to Quenya now that the official welcome was over and the babble of talk had risen around them and they could talk more or less privately. “It is good to have you visit us here in the west. Is all well in the Marches?”

“Well enough, certainly,” said Maedhros, inclining his head. Maedhros’ party of guards and councillors milled about them, dismounting and speaking with the stable hands who had come out to take their horses, or talking and laughing and reuniting with old friends. “The network of hill forts we discussed the last time we spoke is well underway. There are now three major carriage roads running from Himring to east, west and south, and another one under construction through the pass of Aglon. We’ve had to use a switchback design, due to the slope, but it’s certainly workable. There’s been a little trouble cutting into the hillsides; it seems the bedrock is harder than we anticipated, but after consultation with the Khazad of -” he broke off. “Although perhaps I am getting too much into the details. Forgive me, uncle, I shall save it for the council tomorrow, that you spoke of in your letter. How are things at Barad Eithel?” he looked around behind Fingolfin, and Fingolfin saw the hope in his eyes. “And how is Findekáno? Is he here?”

“He most certainly is” said Fingolfin, with a smile, looking up to the tower behind them. “He’s been up on the battlements watching for your party all morning, you know. That’s what happens when you tell us the exact day on which to expect your arrival.”

Maedhros smiled too, and Fingolfin could see the affection and love despite the carefully schooled and now reflexive guardedness of his nephew’s features. “In that case,” said Maedhros, “I must take care to always arrive at the exact moment I say I will, so as not to keep him waiting.”

“I am sure you are equal to the task” said Fingolfin. “But I think - ”

His words were lost, though, as suddenly a figure hurtled towards Maedhros, flinging its arms around his chest. “ _Maitimo!_  Here you are at last. Blessed Eru, but it’s good to see your pretty face again.”

“Findekáno” laughed Maedhros, once he had recovered his composure and his balance. He twisted around in his cousin’s arms, trying to see his face as Fingolfin looked on in some amusement. “It’s wonderful to see you too. But what are you _doing?_  We’re out in the courtyard.”

“Indeed” said Fingon, pulling back to look at Maedhros’ face. “Why do you think I haven’t already tackled you down to the nearest flat surface and covered every part of your body in kisses? And I mean  _every_  part.” He smirked, tugging on a lock of Maedhros’ hair that had slipped from the strip of leather that bound it back. “It’s been hard to restrain myself, and I would have it that you appreciate my valiant efforts, thank you very much. But I’ve got  _plans_  for you this week, I hope you know.” He grinned sheepishly, seeming to notice Fingolfin standing there for the first time. “Um. Sorry, father.”

“I heard and saw nothing,” said Fingolfin, raising his hands before him and smiling too. “Finno, I’d reprimand you for your lack of discretion and tell you people will talk, but, I fear, I’m far beyond that now. It’s much too late.”

“Some of the gossip is actually quite entertaining to listen to” said Fingon. “Maitimo, have you heard that story they tell about us exchanging gifts? They said that I sent you a golden, jewel-encrusted model of - ”

“Findekáno,” said Fingolfin hastily, “people say all sorts of things in the training yard and the guard posts. It doesn’t mean you should go into  _details_. And don’t let it give you any ideas.”

———

“There is to be a great feast in honour of your visit at seventh hour” said Fingon, leading Maedhros down the corridor by the hand. “But until then, we are free. There will be a council tomorrow, with the lords and ladies of the court, and Atar says they are all expecting you to give them news from the east. Trading, the state of your defence against the Enemy, relations with the local people, things like that. Can you do that?”

“I was under the impression that was what I was coming here to do” said Maedhros.

Fingon stopped and turned to face him, bringing Maedhros’ hand up to his mouth to kiss it. “Well, I was hoping it wasn’t the  _only_  reason you came all this way” he said, looking up at Maedhros from beneath thick, dark lashes.

“It wasn’t” said Maedhros quietly, love welling up within him as he looked down at Fingon. He gently drew his hand from Fingon’s and let the backs of his fingers trail over his cousin’s cheekbone, tangling in his thick, curling hair, fingertips running down a braid. He wished, at moments like this as much as any, that he still had two hands. Two hands to run across Fingon’s skin, two hands to hold, two hands to be whole, as Fingon rightly deserved in a lover.

Yet Fingon shivered delightedly under his touch, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Kiss me, Maitimo.”

“Here?” Maedhros looked doubtfully behind them to check that no one else was in the corridor with them, but Fingon took hold of his chin, turning his head back around so that they were face to face once more. Tentatively, Maedhros took him in his arms and kissed him, letting Fingon press himself closer to him as their lips opened on one another. Fingon was as warm and sweet and bold as he had always been, and Maedhros felt a powerful wash of memory, a thawing of a heart after many years apart, or a return to something familiar and yet always new.

They broke apart, Fingon’s hands bunched in the front of Maedhros’ thick fur-lined travelling cloak that he was still wearing from his journey.

“Maitimo” said Fingon, his voice a little husky. “Come on, my rooms are just down the corridor here… I need you. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much.”

“I’ve missed you too” said Maedhros, meaning every word. He grinned. “But you were the one who decided to stop midway to our destination.”

Fingon let out a growl of a laugh and dragged Maedhros down the corridor by the hand.

Fingon’s private rooms were light and airy, with a wide window with a view down hundreds of feet into the steep green valley, a jaw-dropping spectacle that the two cousins were studiously not looking at. As soon as they got through the door, Fingon threw the bolt with a grin and pressed Maedhros backwards against the panels, rising on the tips of his toes to kiss him hard, hands cupping Maedhros’ cheeks on either side. Maedhros felt his breath hitch within him, letting his hand come up to touch Fingon’s hair once more, grasping a handful of braids as they both kicked off their boots. Fingon was fumbling at the clasp on his cloak, letting the heavy fur garment slip aside as he ground his body against Maedhros’. Next he started on the lacings that held Maedhros’ stout leather jerkin closed, fingers quick and impatient. “Why do you have to wear so many clothes, Maitimo?” he complained between kisses, grinning once more. “Honestly. You’ve got to learn to dress for the occasion.”

“You would have me freeze to death? Or get hit by an orc arrow, for want of protection?” He bent to let Fingon slip his light mail coat over his head.

“You always pick the worst possible thing to say at moments like these” said Fingon. “And as for freezing to death, that would be entirely your own fault for choosing to live in the coldest damn place in this whole continent. And so far from one who would gladly keep you warm…” he kissed Maedhros once more, helping him with the clasps of his own velvet tunic and his shirt, before laboriously extricating Maedhros from his several remaining layers. His paused to run his hands over Maedhros’ chest – now bared by his open shirt - appreciatively, tracing the scars that he knew so well. “You’ve got more muscle than when I last saw you” said Fingon, humming appreciatively. “You’ve been training?”

“Every day, with the guards” said Maedhros. “But you’re one to talk. You look…” he let his eyes roam over Fingon’s arms, his chest and stomach, drinking in the smooth golden brown skin. Ever since they had both been adults, Fingon had always been broader in the chest than he was – though Maedhros was taller – but now the ripple of taut muscle beneath his skin seemed even more pronounced. “You look… stronger. Beautiful. Perfect, as always.”

Fingon snorted and kissed him forcefully again, dropping his head to kiss Maedhros’ collarbones and starting to undo the lacings of his trousers. “Want me to lift you up and fling you down on the bed and have my wicked way with you to prove it?”

“I should like that very,  _very_  much” said Maedhros, and Fingon laughed delightedly, scooping Maedhros into his arms with only a grunt of effort.

He deposited Maedhros on the wide bed in the adjoining room, belying his promise by placing him down gently and with great care. “The crown prince must treat his beloved with honour” said Fingon, smirking. “It’s only right.”

“I fear the crown prince is misplaced in where he lavishes his affections” said Maedhros, as Fingon straddled him, throwing his braids over one shoulder. “I am but some poor savage creature from the strange and trackless lands of the east. Also, I suppose I smell dreadfully of horse and woodsmoke, after my journey.”

“You do a little” said Fingon, sniffing. “I can cope with that. I could bathe you before bringing you to my bed, but that would involve waiting, and you know how bad I am at that.”

“I do” said Maedhros.

“But if you would like to bathe before the feast, I have an idea involving sharing a bath that you might like to hear…”

“That does sound tempting… but tell me later” said Maedhros. “Hard as it might be to believe…” he let out a stifled groan as Fingon ground down against him, “I don’t have infinite patience either. Especially when you’re involved, Fin.”

“Well you don’t need to wait any longer” said Fingon, taking him in hand and drawing a whimper from Maedhros’ lips.

Maedhros knew the lines of Fingon’s body well, as well as his own (sometimes better than his own, he thought on occasion) but relearning them was each time a fresh novelty and a pleasure. He trailed kisses down the smooth, heated skin of Fingon’s chest, his own hand dropping to wrap around Fingon’s hardened shaft. Fingon let out a shout as he began to stroke him, softly at first and then getting harder, faster. Fingon wrapped both arms around the back of Maedhros’ neck and pulled him close so that Maedhros face was pressed up against his throat, and he was breathing in the scent of Fingon’s skin, that thick warm scent he loved so well. He kissed the skin, biting a little, and felt the muscles in Fingon’s neck shift against his cheek as Fingon let out another loud moan.

“I suppose it’s pointless to tell you to hush” said Maedhros, leaning back onto the pillows to look at Fingon’s face.

“It is” said Fingon, kissing along Maedhros’ jawline. “You and I are a very open secret around here, I’m afraid. Besides, I believe you like it.”

“I like  _everything_  about you” said Maedhros, gasping as Fingon pressed their bodies close together, length to length. “I love you, I want you, I…” the words stilled in his mouth as Fingon kissed his lips, drinking him in hungrily.

Without warning, Fingon suddenly turned them over, so Maedhros was above him, his hair spilling free of its bindings at last to pool about them in a red curtain. Maedhros laughed, bracing himself over Fingon with his right arm on the bed, while continuing to touch Fingon with his left hand. He dropped his head down, taking Fingon in his mouth, licking and sucking and then running his tongue lightly up the underside of Fingon’s cock. He drank in his familiar taste and revelled in how Fingon responded, clinging to him and moaning and crying out.

“Maitimo.” Suddenly Fingon had drawn him up again, so that they were face to face once more.

“What is it, beloved one? What do you want?” he asked softly, letting his forehead brush against Fingon’s and letting their minds touch at the same time, just a little. Just enough to transmit feelings, the bright swelling pleasure that was coursing through him. “I am yours. Tell me, Fin. What do you want to do?”

“I want you in me, Maitimo” mumbled Fingon, dropping his head back, a flush already rising high on his cheeks. “In me, now. I want you to fuck me.”

An anticipatory shiver ran through Maedhros at those words and he kissed Fingon once more, smiling into Fingon’s lips, before leaning over to the drawer beside the bed. There, as he knew it would be, was a pot of salve, and he took it out, handing it to Fingon to unscrew the lid with both hands. “Thank you.” He tore his gaze away from the smug smile that was spread across Fingon’s face as Fingon watched him from the bed, and began to prepare Fingon, working in one finger then two, smiling as he touched the place inside Fingon that made his body buck and tense in sudden pleasure. He coated himself too, and when he pushed into Fingon at last, he felt Fingon’s hands tighten on his hip bones, dragging him closer, deeper.

“Careful” he said, as he began to thrust gently, holding himself back a little.

“Why?” grunted Fingon, wrapping his thighs around Maedhros’ waist, pulling him in. “I – oh, oh Maitimo!”

His arms tightened around Maedhros’ back so that as much of their skin was in contact as possible, and Maedhros revelled in it, in the tight heat inside Fingon driving him closer to the edge, in Fingon’s hands that seemed to be everywhere, roaming over his body reverently. Suddenly Fingon pulled him even closer, dragging him sideways so that they rolled over, and with Maedhros still inside him, pulled himself up on top of his cousin, riding him with a blinding smile on his face, his heavy dark braids spilling about his shoulders and down his back.

“Restless today, Fin?”

Fingon grinned. “I want you every single way before the day is out. I want it all. I’ve waited for this for so long. You talk of  _restless_ ; you don’t know of what you speak, Maitimo.”

“Do I not? Don’t you think I’ve been through the same?”

Fingon laid a hand across his lips, silencing him. “Shh. You’re here now, with me. Just let yourself enjoy this, Maitimo.”

His words were murmured against Fingon’s fingers, his voice cracking. “Oh, Findekáno… trust me, I am.” Maedhros felt he had never seen a more beautiful sight, the brightness of Fingon stabbing at his heart even as pleasure coursed through him.  He wrapped his hand about Fingon’s erection once more, lifting his hips from the bed, and they moved together in perfect time.

After a while, Fingon let out a ragged cry, leaning back and tightening his legs around Maedhros, tipping his head back. Maedhros felt the pulsing as Fingon came, spurting heat onto his stomach, the brightness exploding in Fingon’s mind as he let their thoughts merge a little once more. It was enough to send him over the edge too, thrusting out his pleasure inside Fingon, arching up from the bed and murmuring his cousin’s name over and over.

Afterwards the two of them lay sweat-soaked and tangled in each other’s arm as the sun climbed high in the misty sky outside the window. Fingon placed a line of lazy kisses down one of Maedhros’ cheeks to the corner of his mouth, brushing back the hair that was stuck to Maedhros’ forehead.

Maedhros wrinkled his nose, though he was still smiling. “What do you say to that bath now? I think we’ll both need it, if we are to turn up for the feast this evening.”

Fingon feigned shock. “Really? You think so? But I was so looking forward to us both appearing before the court naked and sweaty and generally debauched looking. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“You’re terrible, Fin. I never quite know whether you’re joking or not.”

“I was… I think. But mostly because I really do want to share a bath with you, love. And to get the chance to dress you in court finery afterwards…” Fingon sighed, kissing Maedhros softly, “…and to braid your hair… will you let me braid your hair? And to bring you before my father’s court. Even if I cannot present you openly as the one their crown prince has chosen to give his heart to.” He smiled a little wistfully. “I thought I would be able to do just exactly what I wanted, Maitimo, but it’s not like that, is it?”

“No” said Maedhros. “No it’s not.”

“Still” said Fingon, brightening visibly as he draped himself over Maedhros more fully, pulling the sheet up close about them both, “I must not complain. I got what I wanted, I suppose, all those years ago in Tirion, though I got it by the long way around. I got lands of my own to rule over, a new world filled with wrongs to right…”

“Not all of the wrongs necessarily  _can_  be righted, I fear” said Maedhros.

“Did I say they could? And even so, why not?” He frowned suddenly, eyes flickering over the stump of Maedhros’ right wrist. “But I also have you. I didn’t have to give you up to get all these things that I wanted. Not that I would have, if it had come to it.”

Maedhros smiled sadly. “No, I don’t think you’d have made the same mistake I did.”

Fingon rolled his eyes. “Oh, not this again. I  _forgave_  you, long ago; won’t you accept it, Maitimo? Still, I suppose it’s my own fault, getting all maudlin and encouraging you.” He smiled, the shadow passing from his face as quickly as it had come. “I clearly need to be doing a better job of distracting you from thoughts of those times, and of the future.”

“You do a  _wonderful_  job of that” said Maedhros. “But I daresay soon I could stand to have another demonstration…”

Fingon’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he pulled Maedhros close, kissing his hair. “I was counting on it.”


End file.
